On August 22nd the Waukegan Public Library in Waukegan, Illinois, unveiled a 12-foot statue of Ray Bradbury on what would have been the late author’s 99th birthday. The stainless steel sculpture, titled “Fantastical Traveler,” features Bradbury riding a rocket ship while holding onto a book and was inspired, said its creator, Zachary Oxman, by Bradbury’s poem, “If Only We Had Taller Been.”
Bradbury, best known for his novels, The Martian Chronicles and Fahrenheit 451, was born in Waukegan, a Chicago suburb, on August 22, 1920 and lived there until he was thirteen.
According to the Chicago Tribune, the $125,000 cost of the statue was financed through donations. Those who gave at least $150 received a book from Bradbury’s personal book collection, which had been donated to the library upon his death.
I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
“I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,”
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.
h/t Nitzan Mintz
h/t Tom Gauld
British bookseller and self-appointed “King of Hay” Richard Booth, who transformed the sleepy Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye “into a second-hand bookshop capital,” died August 20, BBC News reported. Booth, who opened his first bookshop in the town’s former fire station in 1961, sparked the international book town movement. His passion for Hay-on-Wye “led him to proclaim it an independent kingdom on 1 April 1977, crowning himself as monarch and issuing passports to locals.”
“This town has become what it is because of him,” said Anne Addyman of Addyman’s Books. “We are absolutely devastated. It feels like we have lost our father, he is such a legend. We are going to have black books in the windows and a week of mourning for the king of Hay. He was unique. He was the first person to diversify a rural economy; what he did was cutting edge in the ’60s and ’70s. There are now over 50 book towns in the world. Hay is still the best. He was like the emperor of the book town movement as well.”
Booth was also the chairman of the Welsh Booksellers Association, life president of the International Organization of Book Towns, and was honored with an MBE in 2004. He sold his bookshop in 2007.
Hay Festival director Peter Florence told the Bookseller: “Richard was a maverick, full of mischief and delight, who had an idea of genius about how to diversify a rural economy with secondhand book dealing and made a life of it. He inspired generations of bookdealers and browsers. There are many people in Hay who are here because of him. We all owe him the easygoing, happy spirit of the town.
“There was a time in the ’70s and ’80s when he was a tremendously charismatic, visionary entrepreneur who had great fun. He was a book man, and he loved a good deal, but I always thought he wasn’t really in it for money; he was in it for the craic, for the party and the good times. And everybody treasures that image of him now.
Jesse Reed and Hamish Smyth from the New York City-based indie publisher Standards Manual recently announced their new book project simply titled Parks. The book is entirely focused on art, typography, maps, and other printed materials from the U.S. National Parks system.
From the book’s introduction by Lyz Nagan-Powell:
If, as Wallace Stegner famously declared, the national parks are “America’s best idea,” how can we explore this idea? There is the historical aspect: America invented the concept of nationally owned and operated parks in 1872, when Ulysses S. Grant signed Yellowstone National Park into existence. But there is more to Stegner’s sentiment than just the invention of the parks. The rest of the quote goes on to say that the parks are “Absolutely American, absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best rather than our worst.”
The national parks story isn’t simple or easy. It’s full of splendor and glory, as well as greed and exploitation. For every person who loves one of the parks like it’s their own home, there is another who resents the federal government for owning it. Even before Yellowstone became the first national park, park history was fraught with tension. Tension between preservation and use, between indigenous people and white explorers, between local rights and federal oversight, between wild freedom and human control, between park purists and park recreationists, and between commercial exploitation and historic value.
With this tense backdrop, or maybe because of it, art, imagery, writing, and design have played a vital role in the history of the national parks. Compelling creative materials that celebrated the land — including books, paintings, performances, and advertisements — have marked developments and milestones. These items have brought the rich landscapes and their scientific and historical significance to life.
Perhaps together, the tension and celebration make the National Park System – parks, monuments, natural areas, historic sites, and more – the perfect embodiment of America itself, and what the “best idea” of the parks is really all about.
You can learn more about the project and order a copy from the publishers site.
Travel Between The Pages 